Lonely Herbs for Lonely Hearts
by Onwa
Summary: Can a potion ingredient really be the solution to Harry's biggest problem? And why Snape is so opposed to the idea? It won't kill him... or will it? [full summary inside] HPxSS
1. Chapter 1

**Overall Rating:** R/NC-17  
**Disclaimer:** J.K owns them, i'm just the baby-sitter.  
**Full summary: **Can a potion ingredient really be the solution to Harry's biggest problem? At least that is what the boy believes, and he doesn't understand why Snape is so opposed to the idea. Beside them being rare and guarded by enormous magical beasts, what other secrets do the Lonely Herbs keep?

**Lonely Herbs for Lonely Hearts**

**  
- Chapter one -**

Harry thrashed and kicked at the invisible heat covering him. The enormous weight on his chest was crashing his lungs, making it hard to breathe... to speak... to scream!

But screams he heard. They were certainly not his own since the voice was too deep, probably that of an adult. They were deafening, anguish, and the more he fought for air, the stronger the screams became. The more he kicked, the more familiar that roaring voice got.

"No! Professor, please!"

"Oh do wake up, Potter!" the man said and, taking a hold of Harry's shoulders, shook the boy to consciousness.

Harry's eyes shot open. He stared into Snape's sweaty face and when the man didn't stop shaking him, he cleared his throat and tried to speak.

"Sir? Sir-I'm-a-wake-you-can-stop-sha-king-me-now."

Suddenly, the professor's movement came to a halt and his hands let go of the boy, dropping him none to gently back on the bed. Not sparing him another glance, Severus wiped his hands on the white robe he wore, a look of mild disgust on his face.

"I was making sure you weren't dead," the potion master said, and lifted both palms to his face. Harry, still feverish from his dream, watched Snape's face contort even more as he sniffed his hands.

"Do I really smell that bad?" he asked, more himself than Snape. God forbid if he tried to start a conversation with the bastard. But apparently Severus was in a good mood today, at least good enough to throw some nasty, yet perfectly masked, remarks at the boy.

"Your odor reminds me of one of the potion ingredients I haven't used for years, and with good reason," Snape replied nonchalantly, while unstoppering a vial and pouring a generous amount of a certain red liquid into his palm.

Harry snorted at his words. "A very poetic way to say I stink, don't you think so?"

"Professor," Snape added and Harry couldn't help rolling his eyes.

"Yes,_professor_," he repeated, biting out each syllable as if it was not 'professor' he was saying, but 'arsehole'. At times like these Harry doubted Dumbledore's last night reasoning was correct. At other times he just doubted the existence of the old-man's reason in general.

Feeling another headache creep up, Harry closed his eyes and let his mind drift back to the cursed day when Dumbledore started to doubt Poppy's abilities in the health field, and started trusting Snape's. And worse of all – Harry encouraged him.

**- A bit more than 24 hours earlier -**

"Ron, 'Mione, we should leave before midday. Let's get ready if we want to survive this little trip," Harry whispered across the table. At Hogwarts, breakfast only started, but Harry was ready to leave the table the moment he sat down.

Yesterday, Ron and Hermione offered to help him find the Lonely Herbs, a plant so rare that even some of the greatest potions masters haven't had the opportunity to see it, not to mention smell it.

During Potions class, Snape explained with the usual bitterness to his tone that the smell of that plant had the ability to increase one's magical knowledge tenfold, meaning that even vanquishing the Dark Lord will prove to be a piece of cake.

But Snape made sure to crash everyone's hopes to finding that plant and using it. 'Not only is it impossibly rare,' he had said, 'but if one does manage to find it, he will meet his doom when facing the thousands of black dragons guarding it.'

But Harry was sure that thousands of dragons couldn't be worse than one megalomaniac Dark Lord. _They trust me to kill one of the most powerful wizards alive, but they doubt I will be able to get past few lizards? You have got to be kidding me..._

Proving that he does possess some intellect, Harry voiced his plans only at the end of the class, when Professor Snape was out of hearing range, and only to his two best friends. But Snape wasn't called a spy for nothing.

So now, at breakfast, he was watching Harry and his friends very carefully. When he saw them nodding in unison and starting to get up, he cleared his throat and called across the table.

"Mister Potter," he said in his authoritative tone. The hall's activities came to a halt, Harry cringed, Ron paled and Hermione just sighed. Snape couldn't help but smile inwardly at their reactions. Seeing that he was still facing Harry's back, he turned his hawk-like gaze to Hermione.

"I never doubted the absence of 'politeness and table manners' in Potter's vocabulary but you, miss Granger, managed to surprise me."

The look of utter disappointment passed on the girl's face, but wisely, she kept silent.

"Do sit back down, all three of you," Snape went on, his tone taking an angry edge, " Miss Granger, Mister Weasly, you are to stay within Hogwarts walls until the winter holidays next week, just like every other student."

Abruptly, Harry turned to stare at him with disbelief. His eyes were screaming 'how can you do this to me!?'.

"I know very well what your plans are for tonight, and even though Hogwarts rules may, on some occasions, disregard young Potter here," he hissed, throwing a knowing glare in Harry's direction, "that does not necessarily mean that his band is included as well."

Harry was almost shaking with rage. He had no idea how Snape found out about tonight, but he was not going to just stay put and nod dumbly as his Professor ruined what could be his only chance to get rid of Voldemort.

"You can't do that," Harry called from his seat, "you have no right!"

Snape's brows shot up at Harry's words.

"Do I not?" he asked with bewilderment. "Do I not have the right to protect the children who, very much like yourself, are my students and are about to go on a suicide mission?"

"They are sixteen, for God's sake! They're not even virgins anymore! Professor, they are all but children."

Harry was too lost in his speech to notice Ron and Hermione blush deeply and stare daggers at him.

Feeling slightly amused, Snape replied.

"Perhaps sex is no longer a mystery to them, but _death_ definitely is," he said and the intact of breath at his left reminded him that they were in the main hall and not in the confinement of his classroom.

Trying to make this conversation less personal, Snape went for his usual technique – hurt Potter, leave the rest out of it.

"You see, Mister Potter, not everyone have had their parents killed by the Dark Lord and not one of these students goes by the name of The Boy Who Lived."

Harry clenched his fist in his lap as his nickname was spat with evident disgust.

"Unlike you, these students still preserve some kind of innocence and lucidity, your friends included. If you are desperate enough to search for the invisible easy way out of your problems, instead of learning slowly to face them, I believe you are on your own this time."

There was a heavy tension in the air once Snape was done with his speech. He himself had a hard time breathing, but still he didn't break eye contact with the boy. He could feel everyone's gaze on him. Even his own Slytherins were bewildered.

Replaying Snape's words in his head, Harry felt anger overtake him. Why couldn't Snape understand that he was doing it for a good cause? Why couldn't he see that he was doing it not only to better sleep at night himself, but also for the others? For _him!_

Feeling the last of his control slip, he briskly stood up, sending the chair crashing to the floor.

"The last time I checked Voldemort wasn't my problem alone!" Harry screamed in Snape's direction, "I never asked for the damn scar on my forehead and I never asked to be the awaited savior of the Wizarding World! But I did wish for dreamless sleeps, for quite days without the constant fear that the bastard will surface from out of nowhere and attack. And if that damn plant will help me have those, then I will find it! Alone if I must!"

Heaving for air, the boy looked around him once and all but ran out of the Hall.

Since that scene during breakfast, no one had seen him all day long. Ron and Hermione told Dumbledore they saw him take the broom, but that was right after breakfast.

"He will be back, Albus," Snape assured, seeing the worried look on Dumbledore's face. He himself wasn't convinced by that statement so he added, "I'll find him."

With those words Severus left the headmaster's office. Perhaps he overdid it this time with Potter, but the sheer egoism and stupidity of that boy still angered him. As he was walking back to the dungeons, an odd noise at the end of the hall attracted his attention. His spy instincts kicking in, Snape approached as silently as only he could master and noticed that the noise was coming from a classroom, worse – his own classroom._ I will fry the little rat that's sniffing around in my classroom at these hours! _He promised to himself and threw open the door.

Harry was kneeling in front of a cupboard, barely conscious, trying to unstopper a vial that was far too heavy for him to lift in his condition. He wasn't covered with bruises, to Snape's surprise, but the boy had an odd green shade to his face. He looked tired and very, very ill.

As the vial slipped from Harry's hands, Snape reacted quickly – one wingardium leviosa later, the barely conscious boy and the vial were safely floating in the air.

"Oh you found Harry! Wonderful!"

Dumbledore's cheerful voice made Severus jump. _As sneaky and perceptive as always_, Albus, he thought and sighing, lay the boy on a very green sofa that he kept solely for guests.

Poppy came in with Albus, and after a quick check-up she announced that the boy had no injuries and was perfectly fine. Severus, on the other hand, saw a very pale green-faced boy almost merging with the very sickeningly green sofa he was laying on.

"He can't be 'perfectly fine', Albus. Just look at him. He's obviously ill, and I am almost certain he knows so himself, since he was trying to gulp down one of my strongest healing potions only mere moments ago. I think I should keep him here for a week or so, to make sure he won't unexpectedly die on us."

Snape knew he was exaggerating, but Harry nodded reluctantly. The boy's hate for Mediwizards must have reached an unimaginable level if he is willing to stay in the Dungeons instead of going for another quick check-up in the Hospital Wing. _You are full of surprises, Harry Potter. _

Dumbledore's lips stretched in a wrinkly smile as he put his equally wrinkly hand on Severus' shoulder and spoke.

"Very well! If you see yourself more fit to take care of young Harry Potter, I am sure Poppy will understand."

The witch had an all but understanding look on her face, but she just huffed for a moment or two and left the dungeons, Dumbledore not far behind her.

Harry watched the scene semi-consciously, and judging by the twinkle in Albus' eyes, he knew he just made one of the worst decisions of his life. Berating himself inwardly, Harry slipped into unconsciousness.

TBC...


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter two**

Dreamless sleeps were no longer a luxury Harry could allow himself. His nightmares started when he was still living with the Dursleys. Those days, whenever he woke up from a particularly nasty dream, heart missing a beat and his breath labored, his first reaction would be to turn on the light.

He had a small lamp on the floor in his cupboard, the only Christmas present the Dursleys ever gave him. It was easier then, to simply reach down, press a button, and chase away whatever hid in the dark corners of his bedroom.

In Hogwarts, however, he had to get used to _Lumos_ and to his new wand, and at times, when the nightmare was too much to handle, Harry would reach down to the floor unconsciously and almost panic when his sweaty palm met the cold, bare floor.

This time, it was no different. After fighting the demons in his sleep for what seemed like hours, Harry suddenly sat up, hyperventilating. Automatically, he threw his right hand off the couch, desperately seeking for that damn button that will shed some light into the room, along with some air into his lungs. He panicked when his fingers met cold air instead, and fell off the couch with a loud _thud_ while trying to search for the invisible object with both hands.

"Mom...," he chocked out, and started scraping the floor with his finger-nails, feeling like an eight year-old who just discovered that _Mom_ is not coming back.

Refusing to lose track of his own thoughts and memories, Harry focused on calming down, on not dying. _You can't die... breathe..._

"Breathe, Harry. That's right, breathe...," Harry's thoughts were voiced into his ear as strong arms held him in a warm embrace, rocking him lightly. A hard hand then covered his eyes, while another smoothed the sweaty hair back from his forehead.

"Shh... you're safe here, boy. Just breathe," came that low whisper again, and Harry chose to trust that voice. For once, he felt completely safe. And the world could crumble under his feet for all he cared, for tonight, it was only his own safety that mattered.

"Father," Harry breathed out. He was obviously delirious from his nightmare, Severus knew that, but that didn't keep him from seething inwardly.

_Confusing me with that useless father of yours... Of course, Severus Snape must always be replaced by something better. He can never be a replacement himself. You should be relieved that he's gone, boy, and not damn nostalgic._

Severus suddenly felt as though he was betraying himself somehow, his beliefs and principles concerning James senior, but his warm hand still covered Harry's eyes, and the rocking never ceased.

- - -

Nightmares are awful enough, but waking up the morning after is a whole other torture. Groaning while still not fully awake, Harry turned to lie on his stomach, silently cursing whatever managed to get his back in such a sore state.

"Your parents should have washed that dirty mouth of yours with soap," Severus said in a tone that was disapproving but not in the least caring. The tone that normal people would use to state the obvious.

_Severus Snape is all but normal,_ Harry's inner voice reminded him, and the boy could only snort in agreement.

The ugly Potions master was standing mere feet away, hands clasped on the front of his robes, close enough for the boy to see his stained fingers. His eyes were focused on some abstract painting hanging just above the couch Harry was laying on.

"And yours should have--," Harry started, wanting to let Snape have a taste of his own remedy. But he shut his mouth a moment later, deciding that insulting his Potions master while still attaining his classes was not such a great idea after all. Surprisingly, the glare he got from Snape dared him to finish that comment.

"Well?" Snape demanded through gritted teeth, "aren't you going to finish that thought?"

There was something flickering in those dark eyes, something that caught Harry off guard. _Could it be... vulnerability?_

Still on his stomach, Harry shifted his weight onto his elbows and raised his head, searching Snape's eyes for a confirmation of his suspicions. But the mysterious flicker was long gone, and Harry doubted it was even there to begin with. _I must be losing it if I could spot something other than apathy in his eyes. Snape? Vulnerable? Then it would mean that the bastard is human, and THAT is pure fiction._

"Is that a challenge, professor? Or didn't you get enough of those nasty comments from other students that you want to hear some colorful words directly from _The boy Who Lived_?"

Mirth was dancing in the boys eyes, but Severus didn't seem in the least bit amused. In fact, that odd flicker was suddenly back in his eyes, but just like last time, it didn't linger.

"Consider this an opportunity to say what is really on your mind," Snape spoke, no longer holding Harry's gaze but still looking at him, "but let me remind you, Potter, that you are in _my_ rooms, deep in the dungeons, and wandless. No one will hear you scream, if you do."

Suddenly the temperature in the room seemed to drop way below zero, and Harry felt himself shiver. Anyone will find it suicidal to get into any more trouble while still sick and helpless in Snape's room, so Harry decided to take the man's unvoiced advice and shut up.

"I think I'll pass," the boy said in a low voice, just loud enough for Snape to hear if he was expecting a verbal response. When no cutting comment came from his professor, Harry couldn't resist the temptation to be the clown again and added for good measure, "but I must admit that a sense of humor will do you some good."

Severus' eyes squinted even more as he shot the boy a glare. "Are you done?" he bit out impatiently, already tired of their useless conversation.

Harry may still be only in his sixth year, but he was not stupid. He spent five full years and three months attaining Snape's Potions class - it was only natural that the boy knew what will make his professor cringe, wince or sneer. He also knew that when Snape was wasting words and air to ask if you are finished, he was this close to biting your head off.

_Oh if looks could kill..._, Harry thought and winced at Snape's question. He knew he went a bit too far this time and sitting up, just nodded his head, fearing to open his mouth and free more comments Snape was obviously not in the mood to hear.

Severus nodded once, and as if remembering something very important, he all but flew to his cabinet. It stood not far from the fireplace – old and black, just like its owner, with numerous shelves filled with various colorful vials. Harry's eyes landed on one especially large bottle occupying a whole shelf, with the word 'VIE' scribbled on it. _That one must be poisonous_, Harry thought, and he eyed his professor suspiciously as the latter poured some of the mystery-potion into a teacup.

"Are you really going to drink that?" he couldn't help but ask. Snape committing suicide was fine by him, but not in a situation when Harry can be held responsible for it.

As usually, the man ignored Harry's question and only lifted the cup to his nose. _What is it with him and sniffing?_ Harry thought as he saw Snape's face contort in disgust. A moment later he was standing beside the boy again, holding the vile-smelling cup mere inches away from Harry's face.

"Drink," he commanded, and watched Harry's eyes widen unnaturally. The boy then leaned backwards on the couch, away from the porcelain cup. Or at least he thought it was porcelain.

"No thanks, I'm not thirsty," he said, his voice slightly wavering. _I knew that saving my arse was never Snape's concern. He planned to poison me all along, that bastard! _

As if reading his thoughts, Severus rolled his eyes and shoved the cup into Harry's hands.

"If I wanted to end your miserable life, Mister Potter, I wouldn't have chosen this method. Are you forgetting I am the only Potions master in Hogwarts?" he explained impatiently, "If you were poisoned while still in my rooms, who do you think will be the first suspect?"

_True,_ Harry thought, but he would never admit it to Snape, who actually didn't seem to need Harry's approval as he went on.

"I am keeping you here for the simple fact that you are sick, and it seems that Poppy is not qualified enough to treat you this time. This," Snape nodded at the cup in Harry's hands, "is part of the treatment. I am trying to – as you so eloquently put it – save your arse, but if you are unwilling to cooperate and you'd rather face the consequences of your stupidity by yourself, then put that cup on my desk and get out."

Harry watched Snape stride towards his desk and sit down none too carefully on the chair, his back to the boy. The next moment he was grading papers again, if the frantic movement of his arms was any indication for it.

_Is he worried about me?_ Harry wondered in amazement, refusing to believe that his professor could be human after all.

"And how can I be sure that it's just a harmless healing potion?" he asked the black clad back. The arm's movement didn't cease, and for a moment Harry was sure that Snape didn't hear him. Just when he was about to repeat his question, he heard the sarcasm-filled voice of his professor.

"You are a Gryffindor. I believe now will be a good time to put that blind trust of yours to use."

That comment made Harry glare at Snape's back. _How dare he..._, he thought, but he knew that there was truth in Snape's words. He also knew that he wouldn't get any other guarantee, so he sighed and swallowed the green liquid in one go. As expected, the taste was awful. But once down his throat, it spread a pleasant heat in the boy's stomach.

"Oh wow... this actually feels quite good."

Snape's back tensed and he whirled around in the chair. "What do you mean? What are you feeling, Harry?"

There was unmistakable concern in his voice, and Harry couldn't help but smile.

"I like it when you call me that," he spoke, not knowing where the words came from but feeling it was the right thing to say. Snape held his gaze, and Harry noticed that the mysterious flicker was back in his eyes. This time it stayed long enough for Harry to see it transform into hurt, then anger.

"Stop this nonsense, Potter," he bit out angrily and stood up abruptly, "and describe the potion's effects to me. Are you hurting?"

"Oh I'm not the one who's hurting here, Severus."

Again, the words came from out of nowhere. Harry wasn't sure he was controlling his mouth anymore, and Snape didn't seem too happy about it either.

His eyes grew wide and Harry saw countless emotions flicker in those eyes one after the other – shock, disbelief, betrayal, hurt, hate... so much hate.

Without further warning, the heat in the base of his stomach was replaced by a searing pain, and he arched his back off the couch, his eyes watering.

"Hurts...," he chocked out, and started scratching his lower belly viciously. Snape was beside him the next moment, a _Petrificus Totalus_ on his lips. Harry's body froze, but the tears kept rolling down his cheeks.

"I know you're hurting, boy," Severus whispered as he lifted Harry's shirt to reveal the source of his discomfort, "but you must bear with me for a while." Looking down, Snape was taken aback by the dark green patch of skin just below Harry's navel. _That means the potion is working, but the pain shouldn't be unbearable,_ he thought as he poured a certain red liquid on his hands. _Could I have miscalculated? _He wondered while rubbing the liquid into the green skin, massaging it lightly. He glanced at Harry from time to time, searching for signs of pain in his eyes.

Severus couldn't lie to himself – he _was_ concerned about the boy. He would never admit it to him, but he would do his best to prevent the boy from showing his tears again.

_You're turning disgustingly sentimental,_ his inner voice chided, but Snape ignored it and concentrated on the task at hand. When no more tears came from Harry's eyes, Severus guessed that the boy had finally calmed down, meaning that the pain was probably not gone, but bearable. A whispered _Finite Incantum_, and the boy's body was released from the magical shackles. Severus watched him close his eyes and breathe steadily, cringing whenever Snape's hand pressed a bit too hard on his stomach.

"Breathe, Harry," Severus whispered, recalling that last night those soothing words did wonders to the boy. Deciding against using magic for fear it would react badly with the potion, Severus used his arms to lift the boy and walk with him to his bedroom. Harry's head lay on Snape's shoulder, though this time, he didn't call for his father but it was his Potion master's name that left his lips.

"Severus...," Harry whispered back, "will you help me find it?"

_Is it the plant he's speaking of? _Severus wondered. He knew the boy was delirious from all the pain, but how could he refuse one's dying wish?

"You already found it," was his answer, and the boy was laid carefully on the bed, "now sleep, Harry."

_Tomorrow,_ Severus thought as he watched the boy,_ tomorrow I will help you, Harry. But let me have tonight for myself. Let me forget, tonight, that you are my student. Just for tonight, let me have the one thing you will never give me freely – happiness._

With those thoughts in mind, he leaned down and captured the soft, sleepy lips with his own.

TBC...


	3. Chapter 3

**- Chapter three - **

Harry knew he really ought to stop fainting and waking up in the dungeons. He had a hard time admitting it, but he was getting rather used to the dark quarters and that definitely wasn't a good sign, especially because said quarters were haunted by a big, black, greasy-haired bat that terrorized students during the day and prowled the corridors at night.  
_  
Speaking of which_, Harry thought and worked his jaw, closing and opening it slowly, preparing himself to speak. He cleared his throat experimentally then croaked out a very low and raspy 'Snape?' that barely even reached his own ears, and winced soon after as his vocal cords protested painfully.  
When no response came, Harry wondered why he even bothered. Sore throat aside, it was well known that the great bat wasn't trained to appear when he was needed, but quite the opposite.

"You called?"

Harry jumped at the all too familiar, yet unexpected, drawl.

"Severus! Err, Snape… I mean—"

_Trust Snape to give you a scare to cure your sore throat_, Harry thought and blushed deeply, and then he blushed even deeper when he realized he was blushing. Damn Snape for making him feel like a first year again.

Snape looked amused, in his own way, but the emotion was quickly replaced by a deep scorn as he approached what was now considered to be Harry's green couch, levitating a breakfast tray. He'd be dead before he let the boy use his bed again.

"The fact," he began, "that you are drinking half of my healing potions stock and sleeping in my quarters does not give you the right to call me by my last name, let alone my given one, unless I explicitly tell you otherwise."

Harry was still stunned that Snape personally brought him breakfast, so the usually automatic 'yes sir' was now stuck in his throat as he watched Snape spell the tray to hover in the air just two feet away from Harry's nose.

"And since the latter will never be a possibility," Snape went on as he lowered himself onto a nearby armchair, "you might as well stop getting your hopes up right about now and start treating me with the deserved respect, starting with a morning greeting."

Harry swallowed his puzzlement and managed to get his voice under some semblance of control. "Good… morning, professor."

Snape nodded and Accioed a quill and parchment.

"Morning, Potter. Now, tell me more about your condition. How is it this morning?"

Harry shrugged his shoulders, feeling better now that Snape's hospitality issues were no longer discussed. "Better, I guess."

Snape noticed that Harry was more interested in the food than in his questions, if the occasional hungry glances sent towards the tray were any indication for it. He glared, of course, displeased that the time he was wasting to treat the boy was not appreciated, and motioned for the tray to drift farther away from the practically salivating boy. Harry's head then snapped in his direction.

"You guess?" Snape went on as though nothing happened, "Well, 'knowing' was never your forte anyway, was it?"

There was amusement dancing in those black pools again, and a part of Harry patted him proudly on the shoulder for being able to read his usually enigmatic professor so clearly. On second thought, Harry realized it was quite a disturbing revelation, and he looked from his professor's eyes to the tray, as though unsure what was a more horrifying matter – the suspicious gut wrenching hunger at the pit of his stomach or the idea that he obviously spent way too much time in Snape's company than he wished to.

Snape tilted his head then, as if wishing to see Harry from another perspective. If it was anyone else, the movement would have surely looked ridiculous and very dog-like, but since it was Severus Snape, he did it with the amount of elegance Harry didn't even see in Fleur and her Lady-girlfriends. Again, Harry felt the feeling of horror triple in his heart, and the potions master only smirked.

"You are looking less green, if that helps you stir away from the guessing and into the knowing field," He observed matter-of-factly. "After breakfast, I will give you another dose of the potion…"

Suddenly alarmed that he was sitting in Snape's living room, translating his every move and expression into words while having casual conversation with the man, Harry felt unexplained anger fill him.

"Why are you doing this?"

Snape frowned at the whispered question. "I beg your pardon?"

He looked like he was genuinely surprised at the sudden change of topics. As soon as he set his cup of black tea down on a nearby table, he gave Harry his best 'I'm all ears' expression.

"Why do you keep this up?" Came the rephrased questioned, this time with a tinge of frustration that Harry did his best to control. Frankly, he just wanted to bolt out of the dungeons but the words just kept on coming.

There was a pause through which student and teacher only stared one at the other, and Severus hoped that this vague questioning wasn't just another one of Potter's childish outbursts. He could, of course, stand up and move to drink his tea in the tranquility of his bedroom, leaving Potter to fight his demons on his own, but the boy needed answers, and it was his duty as a professor and a creature of superior intelligence to provide them.

"If you are referring to the potion," he carefully offered, "it needs to be consumed at least once a day for us to be able to see positive results within the first week."

Harry sat up in a flash, his hands fisted in the blanket that Snape sacrificed to keep him from freezing during the night. "Screw the potion! I'm talking about you!"

Snape's growl for Potter to watch his language was on the tip of his tongue and it deliberately stayed there, the heated discussion proving to be more interesting by the second. Not that Snape considered himself in the least interesting, but the frustration and confusion was more vivid than ever on Potter's face, and Snape secretly wondered what kind of colorful insult he will come up with next and just how many points it will cost him. He stayed silent, patience was a requirement on his job even if it wasn't his virtue, and as expected his lack of reaction only made Potter angrier.

"I'm going back to my room." Harry stood up and strode hastily towards the door, the tray with his breakfast floating sharply to the side so as to avoid collision. He was confused and embarrassed by his anger, but even more he was horrified to realize that he didn't mean to say all that. It was as though his voice got a mind of his own, and Harry wasn't ready to remain in Snape's company when he couldn't control his own words.

Snape didn't react immediately, but waited until the boy was out of sight and mere feet away from his escape. Even then he didn't stand up, but just spoke in his best classroom voice.

"If you know what's best for you, Potter, you will leave once your health is restored to its normal state and not a millisecond earlier."

That did it, Snape thought with satisfaction, and suppressed a smirk that would have appeared too devilish even on his ugly face. Any other day he would have seriously took his time to figure out why making Potter angry was so much fun, but right now he was content enough to listen to the wrath-filled stomps get louder as the boy strode back into the living-room.

"Ugh, that's what I'm talking about!" Harry yelled, throwing both arms in front of him in a gesture that screamed 'voila!'. "Why do you insist on keeping me here and taking care of me? It's not like you and it's suspicious as hell!"

His arms fell to his sides, hands balled into fists, but the wild look in his eyes remained. If Snape could read thoughts, he would have heard Harry mentally begging his mouth to shut up, but all the potions master read was anger and disgust surfacing to Harry's face as he began speaking again.

"First you prevent us from going in search for the only thing that might help us vanquish Voldemort, then you taunt me into drinking a potion that actually made me feel a dozen times worse," he winced there, as though remembering the pain, "and now you're acting all mother hen on me, promising more of the vile potion after breakfast."

Harry gradually stopped fighting the speech. With every word that forced itself out of his throat, he started to believe what he was saying more and more, until he was willingly shouting at his potions masters, choosing his words carefully so they will hit just right.

"Now you tell me, you filthy Death Eater," he spat, not missing the wince on Snape's face, "if that doesn't even remotely seem like a plan to get me weakened in order to present me as a trophy to your dark master."

Harry was shaking all over, with rage or horror – he didn't know. And apparently, Snape didn't care.

"Be very, very careful about what you let loose of that mouth of yours." Snape hissed as he unfolded from the armchair and stood up. "I assume I made myself very clear last night, so I will not be repeating just why using a potion to get rid of you will do me no good. And perhaps it has never occurred to you, but I am not daft, Potter, and I see no point in wasting a perfectly good healing potion on you if I plan on killing you later."

Harry didn't look in the least convinced, so Snape pulled his sleeve up and in two steps he was by his side, shoving his forearm in Harry's face. "After all, I have this convenient, albeit painful, link to the Dark Lord, and all it takes is a thought to get me there."

Harry tried to take a step back, but Snape caught his wrists and pulled roughly, not hard enough to make the boy stumble forward but sharply enough to cause pain in his shoulders.

"Right now I could simply grab your wrists like this and apparate us to Voldemort, and even in full health," a sharp tag on the wrists, "your wand in your hand," another tag, "and all that sodding Gryffindor courage up your rear you won't stand a chance against him."

Harry's wrists will be black and blue the next day, but instead of letting go Snape gripped them harder and leaned in to practically spit his next words directly into Harry's face. "Imagine how easy it would be to get rid of you now, seeing as you're wandless and already terrified beyond belief. But you're still withing Hogwarts and healing, so next time, before accusing me of whatever it is – think, god damn you, _think_!"

With one last, painful squeeze he let go of the boy's hands and was ready to retreat into his bedroom, but Harry caught the hem of his sleeve before he could go too far.

"So what? You're telling me that you are genuinely concerned for me? That's rich, professor, but you'll have to excuse me if I don't believe it right this instant, especially since all I can think of are all those years you treated me like I was unworthy of the life I was given!"

"For Merlin's sake, Potter, when will you finally grow up?!" Snape sneered and shook Harry's hand off with disgust. "Do you think you are intimidating? You really believe that at any moment now I will break under your gaze, the harsh exterior of your nasty Potions master will melt away, leaving behind a saint, a tired and tortured man who has sacrificed his life for a greater cause, even better - for the Boy Who Lived?"

Harry didn't even bother reacting to that absurd question for if there was some hidden identity in his potions master, it would more likely be the Devil himself than any kind of martyr. Although Dumbledore does trust him blindly, Severus Snape is anything but the victim in this whole story. And the best part was that Snape knew this as well.

"I hate to burst your bubble," Snape went on with smugness, "but you will not get any love confessions from me. I am not doing this because I care about your well-being, Potter, but because your well-being will contribute to our fight against the Dark Lord and hopefully, it will help us bring him down. Then I will be free from the dark mark, and you will be free to go and get yourself killed and poisoned how many times you wish."

By the time he was done, Snape had his cool exterior back on and his emotions under control. Harry allowed himself a few moments to marvel at his self-control and haughty downward twist of thin lips, before the perfectly aimed words sank in and hit somewhere deep, chasing the heat out of Harry's body and face.

"So you do all this," Harry breathed out, feeling his lungs constrict agonizingly, "spying for Dumbledore, curing me and helping me train for the big fight, helping the wizarding world kill Voldemort just so you could get rid of the dark mark?" His voice was laced, unexpectedly, not with disbelief but with fatigue. Harry felt like he was having one of those conversations you have with a child, when you know that it's pointless yet you still speak just because it's somehow your moral duty. "Do you even care about what all of us will be forced to sacrifice, you selfish bastard?"

Snape gave Harry a peculiar look that told him to watch his language, and then he turned, took three steps towards his armchair and sat back down just as gracefully as he stood up. After all, taking points with the verbal slaps so far gone will be ridiculous.

"I assure you that I am not the only one with his own reasons to wish for Voldemort's death." Snape stared at the dark mark as he spoke, two fingers hovering over the scarred flesh almost lovingly. "Global disasters certainly bring people closer, but we are all selfish creatures and we won't apply ourselves for a greater cause if in the end we will have no personal gain from it."

"It's you," Harry accused, his irritation for everything that was Severus Snape back big time, "_you_ and not _we_, because I for one definitely don't belong in the same category as yourself, no matter what it is." Snape was lost in his dark mark, tracing it over and over again, and the lack of reaction fueled the boy's anger and disgust for the man. "You selfish snake, would you even think about joining the fight if you didn't bear the Dark Mark?"

At Snape's silence, Harry's face twisted into an even more disgusting expression. "I thought not. And the kiss, then? Was that too a result of your worry over my well-being, or was it just another selfish act, professor?"

The words caught him off guard, and for a moment Snape was as still as a marble statue. Harry wondered if perhaps he went too far, he wasn't even sure what they were talking about in the first place and how they ended up in this awfully uneasy situation when he was practically accusing his professor of sexual harassment. Just as guilt started to gnaw on his guts, Harry felt, more than saw, Snape gracefully stand up for the second time that day and slowly walk to the door, his eyes not meeting Harry's.

"Eat your breakfast, Harry. This discussion is over."

The door slammed once, but Harry's heart echoed the sharp sound for hours after.

On the other side of the door Severus sighed heavily. His back was no longer stiff and the urge to slump against the heavy wood behind him was almost too strong, almost. He wondered what in the world possessed him to kiss Harry last night - did he really think it could end in anything but a disaster? And since when has the boy become 'Harry' anyway?

Snape shook his head and turned to walk in the direction of the Great Hall. Halfway through the dungeons, he noticed a familiar figure standing few feet away, clad in the usual ridiculously purple robes.

Snape wasn't surprised. After all, Albus Dumbledore _was_ Hogwarts, the walls served as eyes and ears, and the children and students were his heart. Nobody hurt Dumbledore's heart and got away without at least a lecture, but Snape was never one to hide his wrongs and so he began shaking his head with the very first step he took towards his mentor.

"Not a word, Albus. Not one word," he said tiredly as he approached the man steadily. At the lost look directed to him he added, "I will be packing first thing tomorrow morning."

"Severus…" There was pain there, understanding, and Snape – despising the pitying combination those two created – walked past the man without a backward glance.

TBC...

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A/N - I hope this was worth the long wait. Enjoy :)


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